For Better Or Worse
by Pirate's Wench
Summary: A Sleepy Hollow Fanfic. From Icabod's POV. A married woman goes to Constable Crane for help and Ichabod finds himself willing to do anything he can for her. Please RR No Flames
1. Victoria Wintergrace

            City life with in my company only sat well with Katrina for a short while…city life with the son of a very wealthy, well-known aristocrat, however…well, that's another story. 

            Yes, my heart was broken.  Katrina's only true interest in me seemed to be passage out of Sleepy Hollow – can one truly blame her?  As much as my heart ached, I understood that I was not able to keep something that desired to be free.

            Where did this leave me?  Immersed in my work.  As long as I was no longer required to chase after a supernatural being, I could tolerate my newly loveless day-to-day life.  My thoughts, however, never strayed far from Katrina.  I thought that she was destined to be my love.  Bewitchment – that is all any of it was.  Yes, Katrina, I do think you wicked.

            Young Masbath, who shall herein be referred to by his first name, Jonathan, remained with me, assisting me in my work however he could.  This was fine with those that ranked higher than I, as they did not wish to accompany me to a murder site if it could be helped.  I appreciated his company greatly.

            It was midmorning when he knocked on the door to my office.  It was the day that affected my life more than any headless horseman ever could.  For better…or worse.

            "Come in," I called out through the closed door.  When the door opened, Jonathan was on the other side.

            "A woman to see you," he said.

            "A woman?"

            "Yes, sir.  She says she's in need of your help."

            "Show her in."  He did as I asked, escorting a woman, whose beauty could have possessed any man, into my office.  Katrina was a mere child in comparison.

            "Good morning, Constable Crane," she said, her voice soft and somewhat pained.

            "Good morning," I replied, my eyes refusing to tear themselves from her.

            "My name is Victoria Wintergrace.  I do hope I'm not disrupting you."

            "Not at all."  Hair darker than mine fell down her back in soft tendrils and she possessed green eyes more brilliant than any jewel.  My heart began to beat at a pace that it hadn't since Katrina had first kissed me – yet I was several feet away from this woman with no hope of physical contact.  "How may I assist you?"

            "My father," she began, her hands entangling in the top layer of her skirts, "I believe he has been murdered."

            I swallowed harder than I intended.  "What leads you to believe this, Miss Wintergrace?"

            "Mrs. Wintergrace," she said reluctantly.

            "Apologies." 

She nodded in acceptance before saying, "My father, Phillip Dearborne, is missing and has been for several days.  People believe that he has taken a mistress and…"  He voice trailed off.

"You believe otherwise?"

Her voice was now almost frantic.  "Yes.  My father has not courted a woman since my mother's passing.  He would not run off with anyone, Constable Crane, he is not that sort of man."

Trying to think as logically as I could, I asked, "Do you believe that anyone would wish harm upon your father?"

"May I sit, Constable Crane?"

"Oh, of course."  My manners had abandoned me and I felt my face redden at that realization.  I pulled a chair closer to my desk and motioned for her to sit.  "Forgive me, my mind does not seem to wish to cooperate with me today."

"I've had those days myself, Constable."  She sat down and, while doing so, the sleeve of her dress lifted slightly.  Just above her wrist, four bruises marred her porcelain skin.  I did not need to ask what they were, as I knew from my work that they hand come from someone's hand.

"Perhaps there is someone that you specifically suspect of your father's disappearance?"

She realized that I had seen her bruises and tugged at her sleeve.  "No, there is no one.  My father is a wealthy man, Constable, the only person who stood to gain anything from his death would be my brother…he passed away last fall."

"Do you not stand to inherit then?"  I asked, wondering if this dark beauty could possibly have ill motives.

"I do not, sir.  My father arranged for me to marry a man who…has his own wealth.  Should my father pass on without an heir, which he no longer possesses, his estate was to be divided among several charities.  My father is a good man."

I watched as a tear ran down her cheek and wanted nothing more than to wipe it away.  I had to settle for asking yet another question.  "When was the last time you saw your father?"

"Three days ago."

"Was he in good health?"

"Perfect."

"And no female companionship whatsoever?"

"He made a vow to my mother," she said solemnly.  "Even after her death, he refused to break it.  Constable, can you help me?"

I had nothing to go on, aside from this woman's fears, yet I could not turn her away.  "I shall do all I can for you Mrs. Wintergrace.  Please leave your address with Jonathan and should I find anything, you will be contacted immediately."

An exhausted smile crossed her full lips.  "Thank you, Constable Crane."  She rose from the chair, her bruises flashing into view for another brief moment, then left my office. 

Thinking of my experience in Sleepy Hollow, I knew immediately that I would need a copy of the will…greed, it seemed, always caused unfortunate circumstances.


	2. A Threat and a Fall

            Obtaining a copy of Phillip Dearborne's will was not difficult in the least.  Each charity that he had willed money to possessed a copy of it.  Each copy was the same as the next – there were no discrepancies and I know of no charity that would commit a murder to help their organization.  I was back at square one and each time that Mrs. Wintergrace passed through my door, it was with a heavy heart that I had to tell her that there was no news.

            She had come to my office at the exact same time for several days – I had a nagging feeling that she did not come solely for news of her father…I believe that it was a time of day when she needed some form of freedom from her home.  I had noticed other bruises on her, which she tried to conceal without much luck.  Despite this fact, and my lack of news for her, part of me looked forward to her visits. 

            I sat behind my desk at eleven thirty, waiting for the dark beauty to grace my doorway…she did not arrive.  Mr. Wintergrace appeared in her place…

            "Are you the one who my wife has been coming to?" the man asked.

            Unaware of who he was – at first – I said, "That would depend, sir, on who your wife is."

            "Victoria Wintergrace.  I know she's been asking about her father.  He has run off with a woman, Constable Crane, there is no need for an investigation."

            The man stood several inches taller than me and, doing my research, I learned that he was a prominent lawyer in the city.  "Mr. Wintergrace, if your wife believes otherwise, she…"

            His face grew red.  "She is a foolish woman who would rather believe her father dead than admit that he ran off with a harlot."

            "Mr. Wintergrace…"

            "If she ever shows up here again, it shall be against my wishes.  You will tell her that you are no longer able to waste your time on a murder that did not occur."

            "That's not exactly the truth…"  The man lunged at me, grabbing my neck and holding me an inch off of the ground.

            "That _is_ what you will say, Constable."  He dropped me, my throat burning.  "Are we clear?"

            "Y…yes, Mr. Wintergrace." 

            "Good."  He turned and left without another word.

            "Jonathan?"  My young ward appeared in my doorway.

            "Yes sir?"

            "I…I feel the need to go out and clear my head for a bit.  Should anyone need me…"

            "I will ask them to come back later, sir."

            "Thank you."  I left my office and was more than relieved when the autumn air invaded my senses.  My head was spinning, thoughts of Victoria as well as her ogre of a husband dominating my thoughts.  I wandered without paying much attention to where I was going – I have since learned not to do that, for as I wandered…I stumbled down a flight of steps.  Waiting for me at the bottom was a body – or what I at first took to be a body.


	3. He is a Monster

            As soon as the world stopped spinning around me, I took note of what I had landed on – the aforementioned body.  I registered that there was no scent, therefore I knew that the unfortunate soul was not deceased, however, he certainly was not in the healthiest of conditions.  I sat up, rubbing at the lump that was forming on the back of me head, and tried to rouse the man.

            "Sir?  Sir, are you all right?"  Well, of course he was far from all right, but what else was I to ask?  He was terribly bruised and I noticed that some of his clothing was thick with blood.  "S-sir?"  His eyes fluttered, attempting to open.

            "Help…me…"  His voice was very hoarse and his breathing shallow.

            "Yes, yes, of course."  I ran up the stairs as quickly as I could and grabbed the first two men I saw.  "There is an injured man at the bottom of the stairwell, I need your help to bring him up."  The men assisted me and we were able to get him to the infirmary, which was, thankfully, very near by.  Once there, several nurses and Dr. Peter Kindell attended to him.  Both my job and curiosity kept me at the infirmary until the man was conscious and coherent.

            When I was allowed to speak with him, my day became…complicated.

            Dr. Kindell came out to find me.  "Mr. Dearborne will see you now, Constable Crane."

            "Mr. _Dearborne_?" I asked, my stomach twisting.

            "Yes, Constable.  He would like to speak with you."

            A noise that could have belonged to a small, frightened animal escaped my lips, then I followed Dr. Kindell.  Mr. Dearborne sat upright in his bed, his face swollen, but his eyes bright.

            "Constable Crane?" he whispered.

            "Yes, sir."

            "I cannot thank you enough for saving my life."

            "You are quite welcome.  I must ask, sir, are you _Phillip_ Dearborne?"

            "Yes, I am."

            "Your daughter has been quite concerned about you, sir, she came…"

            He struggled to sit up further.  "She's come to you?"

            I nodded.  "For the past several days.  May I ask what happened to…"

            "Father!"  I heard Victoria's voice behind me.  I could not bring myself to turn around for fear of seeing her husband.

            "My darling girl," Mr. Dearborne said, smiling as best he could.  "How did you know to come?"

            "Abigail Hallingsworth is a nurse here, she sent for me.  Father, I thought you dead.  What on Earth happened to you?"

            I noticed that Mr. Dearborne paused before answering his daughter.  "I believe that I happened upon the wrong place at the wrong time, my dear.  Common thieves seemed quite adamant about taking the valuables I had on my person."

            "So many days ago?  Oh, Father, it must have been terrible!  It's been so cold and…"  Victoria turned and looked at me.  She looked so different from all of her visits.  The forlorn look in her eyes had disappeared and her lips were drawn into the most beautiful smile I had ever seen.  "Constable Crane, _you_ found my father?"

            I could feel the heat in my face growing stronger with every passing moment.  "Yes, Mrs. Wintergrace.  I managed to stumble upon him…"

            "Quite literally," Mr. Dearborne chuckled.

            "I am not quite sure how to thank you, Constable."

            "Seeing a smile on your face is more than I could ask for, Mrs…"

            "Victoria, please, Constable.  I do enjoy to being my own person at times."

            Victoria was noticeably more at ease in her father's presence.  I understood where her bruises were from, but I also understood my place – it was not in the midst of her affairs.  On each occasion that I had seen her, Victoria seemed to be the epitome of a damsel in distress, but at that moment, and with that one lone statement, I knew that there had to be more to her.  "Ichabod," I said, feeling foolish as soon as I did.

            "Pardon?" she replied, her smile still present.

            "You needn't call me Constable Crane.  Though I suppose you will no longer be seeking my assistance or…"  I regretted the words that I let leave my mouth.  She would have to think me odd for saying them – at least that is how I thought she would react.

            "Ichabod, you have been a true gentleman in this matter.  You could have easily turned me away when I came to you."  She stepped closer to me and kissed my cheek.  "I am forever grateful."

            I tried in vain to swallow the lump that formed in my throat, but before I could succeed, Mr. Dearborne had once again spoken up.

            "Victoria, dear, I fear that I will be here for a day or two.  Would you be so kind as to bring my robe for me?"

            Victoria kissed her father's forehead and smiled at him.  "Of course, Father.  I will be back as soon as I can."  With a final nod in my direction, she left.

            "Constable Crane, when my daughter came to see you…was she alone?"

            I understood where this conversation was headed.  "Yes, she was."

            "Was she all right?  I mean to ask…  Aside from worry, was she in good health?"

            "She was not ill, sir."

            Mr. Dearborne looked down at the blankets that were covering him.  "Was she injured?"

            My throat suddenly felt very dry.  "She was bruised, sir, but I did not feel it was my place to…" 

            "I fear that I have ruined my daughter's life."  His voice was distant.  "Have you met her husband?"

            "Yes, I have."

            "And that is why your throat looks as it does?"

            "Pardon?"

            "Constable Crane, you have bruises on your throat."

            I had unfastened the color of my shirt after carrying Mr. Dearborne to the infirmary.  I had not given it another thought.  "I…Well, you…"

            "He is a monster, Constable, and I gave my daughter to him."


	4. You Know

          "I beg your pardon?" I asked, my eyes opened far too wide.

          "He seemed to be a very good man.  Well known in the community, well liked, very successful in his law practices…"  Mr. Dearborne's tone changed.  "When I discovered the way that he treats my daughter…I wanted to do something about it.  One always wants to protect his or her child, Constable, no matter what age that child may be.  I realize that divorce is not looked on favorably, but, under the circumstances, I thought it best.  Hector did not agree with my point of view."

          "You were not telling Victoria the truth about what happened, were you?"

          He shook his head.  "How could I tell her that her husband beat me and left me for dead?"

          "Mr. Dearborne, it is none of my business, but if you wish for Victoria to be without her husband, why not tell her?"

          "He will not let her leave, Constable, and telling her will only make things worse."

          "Well, I believe I can take care of that problem.  I will have him arrested for…"  The man shook his head "no" before I could finish.

          "He ranks much too high here.  Charges will never remain against him and as for the act of arresting him…I fear that my daughter would be even more danger once he was released.  People would say things and…"

          "How can you let this man walk free?"

          Silence was my answer.  The man was in a difficult position, but so was Victoria – even more so than her father.  Her husband had picked me up by my throat without any effort at all.  To think of what he was capable of doing to her made me feel faint.

          "There is nothing that can be done without making the situation worse, Constable.  If there were I…"  He stopped when we both heard footsteps.

          "I…I have your robe, Father."  The smile that had warmed my heart was gone from Victoria's face.

          "Victoria, darling, what's the matter?" Mr. Dearborne asked his daughter.

          She forced a pained smile onto her face.  "Nothing you need to worry yourself with, Father."  Victoria placed his robe at the foot of his bed, then sat at his side.  "You need your rest.  I will come to see you in the morning."  Mr. Dearborne nodded and Victoria kissed his cheek, then left the room without so much as a glance to me.  Strange how much that hurt me.

          "Constable Crane?"

          "Yes, sir?"

          "Would you please make sure she is all right?  She is right in the fact that I need my rest."

          "Yes, sir.  Under these circumstances, I will have an officer keep watch outside your room tonight, just as a precaution."

          "Thank you, Constable Crane."  Mr. Dearborne closed his eyes and I left.  Victoria had left her father's room, but not the building.  I found her on a bench just next to the door.  She was crying.

          "Victoria?" I said, approaching her.  "Are you all right?"

          She looked up at me, her eyes reddened.  "I ran into Hector on my way back here…  Ichabod, he did not seem to care in the least that my father was alive.  I asked if he would come and see him, but he refused, saying he was far too tired to deal with any of it."  I sat next to her, expecting her to say more.  She looked at me and I saw confusion in her eyes.  Without warning, she put her arms around me and her sobs became more violent.  When she finally managed to speak, she asked, "If I were _your_ wife, would you abandon me at a moment like this?"

          My arms wrapped around her instinctively and I began to rub her back in an attempt to calm her.  However, I forgot to think before I spoke.  "If you were _my_ wife, Victoria, many things would be different for you."

          Still clinging to me, she said, "You know."  I nodded.  "I was a fool to think you would be oblivious to it."

          "Your father is terribly worried about you."

          "My father needs only to worry about regaining his own health."

          "It is because of his concern for you that his health is in question."  I mentally kicked myself for letting that statement slip, but I could not help but think that it was, indeed, in her best interest to know the truth.

          She lifted her head, but her body was still pressed to mine.  "What?"  She questioned me aloud, but the look in her eyes said that she was not surprised by what I had told her.  I was not destined to find out any more – Hector had decided to come to the infirmary after all.  Finding his wife in the arms of another man was not what he wished to see.

          "Victoria?  Constable Crane?"  Only three words were spoken, yet my blood ran cold.  "What is going on here?"  Victoria looked like a frightened animal; she could not find her voice, but she did not need to.  I was willing to take any blame I had to in order to protect her.

          "She is upset by her father's condition, Mr. Wintergrace.  Since you were not here, I was simply trying to console her.  There is nothing…"

          "Victoria, get up," he ordered.  She obeyed him, quickly making her way to his side.  "Constable Crane, your 'consoling' is neither necessary nor needed."  He turned and headed for the door, Victoria following.  I sat where I was wondering what harm _had_ been done – and what harm _would_ be done.


	5. Change

          After retrieving an officer to keep watch over Mr. Dearborne, I went home, foolishly thinking that I could go out my evening routine.  I had taken Jonathan under my wing as best I could, which included giving him a room in my home.  It was during dinner that he noticed that I was not my usual self.

          "Thinking of her, Ichabod?" he asked.

          "Who?" I asked, my voice cracking as though I were an adolescent.

          "Mrs. Wintergrace.  I know that none of this is my place, but she _is_ married."

          "To a man who treats her terribly, Jonathan!"  I practically slammed my fork onto the table.  "Sorry."

          Jonathan raised an eyebrow at me.  "So why not go get her then?"

          "What?"

          "You are obviously worried about her, so just go and get her."

          I shook my head, dismissing the thought.  "You must be too young to realize that life is not that simple."

          "Why?"

          "Well, you see…"  I stopped to think about it, weighing every aspect of the situation in my mind.  I sighed deeply.  "You are absolutely right, Jonathan.  It _is_ that simple."  I got up from the table and rushed out of the front door.  I had no real plan, only the want to take Victoria away from any possible danger.  I only hoped that I would not be too late. 

          I practically ran through the streets trying to make my way to her home as quickly as I could.  It was storming outside, but the rain was the least of my concerns.  I reached the house I knew to be hers and froze for a moment, becoming drenched on the sidewalk.  As soon as my nerves let me, I knocked on the front door, knowing full well someone was inside.  I could hear the drunken rantings of a man.  Mr. Wintergrace, no doubt.  Losing the nerve to face him, I circled around to the back of the house, the rain continuing to soak through my clothing.  I found Victoria huddled in a ball next to the back stairs.

          "Victoria?"  I rushed toward her, hoping that her husband would remain inside.  She looked up, then down again.  "Victoria, why are you out here?"

          "Ichabod, you must leave.  If he sees you…"  Lightning tore through the sky and I saw blood flowing down her arm.

          "What happened?"

          Her voice was pleading with me.  "Please go!"

          "I shall…and you will come with me.  Your wound must be attended to."

          "No, I can't…he…"

          I gently pulled her to her feet.  Her dress was soaked through, her hair matted to her face.  "He'll do no more."  She looked at me, her once brilliant eyes dull and nearly lifeless.  I took her hand and we hurried off into the storm.  Once in the safety of my home, she nearly collapsed.  "He was inebriated?"

          "Afterwards, I'm sure."

          "He did this to you with a clear head?"  She nodded, ashamed.  "Why?"

          "He felt I deserved it."

          "Because of me?  Because I consoled you?"  She did not answer me.  "Victoria?"  Tears flowed from the eyes that I knew were capable of seeing into my soul.  Her body began to tremble from the cold.  "Jonathan," I called.  He came into the parlor.

          "Yes, Ichabod?"

          "Fetch some towels, please, as well as some dry clothing.  She can wear something of mine.  Bandages too."

          "Right away."  Jonathan rushed from the room, leaving me alone with Victoria. 

I swear that I did not mean to let my eyes wander as they did, but I could not help myself.  She was scared and wet, yet…still so beautiful.  Jonathan returned quickly, carrying with him all that I had asked for.  I began to cut the bandages as Victoria started to dry herself.

"My bodice," she said softly.  "The laces are too wet to loosen.  It would be far easier to cut them free."

"Oh…"  My mind went to images of things that it never should have, I could not control my thoughts around her.  Carefully, I snipped the laces on the back of her dress, my mind far from pure thought.  I wanted to undress her.  I wanted to show her how I felt a woman's body should be cared for…worshipped – not damaged.  When I was through with her laces, I looked at her arm.  "Your wound will heal without stitching.  It is not as deep as I thought it would be."

"That is very good to hear, Ichabod.  I fear that I do not fare well with needles."

I smiled.  "Nor do I."  Jonathan had left again and I was gazing at Victoria's bare back.  She turned, holding her dress against her chest.

"You do not mind a woman wearing your clothing?"

"What is there to mind?  You will catch your death if you remain in what you are wearing."

Her eyes cast down.  "Death is not exactly unwelcome at the moment."

"Victoria, surely you cannot mean that."

"My father is terribly hurt because of me.  When my husband finds me…"

I interrupted her.  "I find it very hard to fathom that you are as weak as you lead everyone to believe."

"I have been reduced to a shell of myself, Ichabod.  I can assure you that I was not always as I am now.  Hector has…changed me."

"Changed you?"

Instead of answering my question, she tried to force a change of subject…at least that was what I thought at first.  "Did you know that I was a nanny once?"

"No."

She smiled, very slightly.  "I took care of three beautiful children.  Their mother had fallen ill and, being a friend to her family, I was hired to watch over two little boys and an infant girl.  I was happy then, and stronger.  I lived with my father and brother and I honestly did not want for anything else."

"What happened?"

"My father wished for me to wed.  He introduced me to Hector – who was, at the time, so different than he is now."  She had not changed the subject at all and she held my attention to the fullest.  "He insisted that I not work, it was not necessary in his eyes."  She looked at me, her eyes trying to say more than her words.  "I did not work for the money, Ichabod; I worked to have a sense of purpose - to do more than spend day after day having tea with women that I did not care for.  Hector is very strong willed.  He got his way."

          "And then Hector…changed?"

          She nodded.  "He was a loving husband at first.  Affectionate, caring…but I made the mistake of going to visit the children one evening while he was at work.  When I arrived home…that was when everything cracked apart."

          "For leaving the house?"

          "Trivial, is it not?  I left word of where I was, but his routine had been broken, therefore he broke me as well."  Victoria cast her eyes downward.  "I do not mean to burden you with this."

          "You are doing anything but…"  I realized that though I had cut the bandages, I had yet to tend to her arm.  "Oh, I am terribly sorry, Victoria."  I gently wiped away the new trail of blood that flowed down her arm, then wrapped bandage around it.  "You need to finish changing," I said softly.

          "As do you.  You seem to be just as soggy as I am."

          I had not felt the cold of dampness until she mentioned it, but once she did, I began to shiver.  "I will leave you to dress."  I walked out of the parlor, closing the door behind me, and went to my bedroom.  The thought of Victoria stripping away her clothing just a floor below me made my head feel light.  I was unsure of how I was going to survive the night.      


	6. Feasting

A married woman – happy or not – is still a married woman.  This thought was not enough to deter me from the sight I was taking in.  I returned, newly dried, to the parlor to find Victoria sitting in a blanket in front of the lit fireplace.  Clad in my own garments, her hair still damp, firelight playing against her skin…I wanted nothing more than to love her to the fullest extent that I could. 

Before Katrina, these thoughts never existed in my mind, but now they refused to leave.  The two of us had always spoke of being intimate with one another, but Katrina is the only one who had any taste of pleasure – she always changed her mind once her body found its much needed freedom.  My self-control was waning.

"Ichabod?"  Victoria snapped me back into reality.

"Yes?"

"Where were you just then?"  Her eyes were coming back to life.  My face reddened and she noticed.  "The way you've been looking at me…"

"Victoria, I'm sorry.  I…"

"…it intrigues me."

Needless to say, I was shocked.  "What?"

"When you look at me, you appear to be feasting and starving all at once."

"It was improper of me.  I apologize."

"Feast," she whispered.  I feared that my ears had deceived me.  "You look as though you have been starving your entire life.  Have you?"

My mouth opened before my mind could reason with it.  "Yes."

"My husband devours until my body goes limp.  He is no more than a greedy boar."

"He hurts you then as well?"

Her eyes clouded with shame.  "My pain is his pleasure.  Do you wish to do the same?"

"I wish to drink from you," I confessed, not listening to rational thought.  "I wish you _only_ pleasure."

"Your desires are based solely on what you see…"

"No," I insisted.   "You are beautiful, but you are far more.  The intelligence that you have locked away, but I can plainly see, rivals that beauty – it makes you all the more desirable." 

She smiled at me.  "The same is true of you.  I have read so much about you - your mind is as intriguing as…"  She blushed.  "…your physical self."  My face grew flush as she admitted her attraction to me.

"You are married," I said, knowing it did not matter to either of us.

"And you are starving.  Your needs outweigh my marital status…and shall quench a thirst we are both dying of."

At those words, I let my lips touch hers.  The contact was unlike anything I had ever experienced.  Katrina's kisses lacked in emotions, but Victoria's were overflowing with them.  Gently, I tilted her body so her back was resting on the blanket.  Despite the heat from the fire, she was still shivering.

            I pressed my body against hers and let it rule over my mind.  Victoria's kisses were as hungry as mine, her hands as curious.  She had left the top buttons of my borrowed shirt open, allowing me to devour her slender neck.  Her fingers entangled themselves in my hair, holding me closer to her.  Passion and lust overrode my senses.

            "Ichabod…"  She moaned my name.  _My_ name.  It was the very first time any woman had ever said my name in such a way.  It sent powerful jolts of desire through my veins.  "Let me feed you."  I tore my lips from her neck and looked up at her – her face held a smile that was sinful.

            Her hands began to pull my clothing from my body, at which my arousal heightened to an almost painful state…then her lips found me.  Her kisses ran along my inner thighs, her tongue tracing torturous circles on my flesh.  I nearly suffered one of my fainting spells when she engulfed me in the warmth of her mouth.  She took note of this and released me, her hands taking the place of her mouth.

            "Are you all right?" she asked, her cheeks crimson.

            "I…I…It's just that I've never felt…"

            Her head tilted to the side.  "Ichabod, you truly have never had…any pleasure?"  I could not find my voice, so I simply shook my head.  Victoria crawled up my body and stared into my eyes.  "Have you never had a lover?"

            "I have never been wed," I said, my mind clouded.

            "I did not ask if you had a wife, Ichabod, I asked if you had a lover."

            Obviously fidelity was not an issue with Victoria – after all, her husband was hardly worth being faithful to – but her way of thinking seemed so…unusual.  My curiosity, among other things, was piqued and I had to ask the question that was burning into my mind.  "Victoria, how is it that your thinking is so, um…"

            She smiled at me again.  "My father has traveled extensively, Ichabod.  He always brought back trinkets and books…books that were not meant for my eyes."  She lowered her lips to my ear and whispered, "I read them anyway."

            "Oh…"  Nothing intelligent could make its way from my brain to my mouth.

            "I never thought that I would be able to try anything that I read.  Hector would surely punish me if he knew about the literature that I became privy to.  Does it bother you?"

            "N…no.  You mean to tell me that you have never done…"  All I could do to finish that thought was look down between my legs.  She shook her head.  "Well, you are quite good."  She laughed heartily at my very inappropriate comment.

            She kissed me, more passion flowing through her than before.  She pulled back and caressed my face.  "I am very fond of you, Ichabod Crane.  I have not laughed in quite some time."

            "Well, I suppose that I should be thankful for my nerves then – they always cause the wrong things to come out of my mouth."

            Her lips found my chest.  "Nothing you say can be wrong."  My hands ran along her back, which was still covered with my shirt.  "Do you wish to undress me?"

            "I wish for nothing more, Victoria."  I carefully began to unbutton the shirt she wore – knowing that it was mine made the situation all the more erotic.  I felt like a child on Christmas morning, unwrapping the one gift I had wanted more than anything else in the world.  She was soon naked before me, my hands touching every inch of her flesh that they could.

            We kissed and caressed for what felt like an eternity – I was convinced that she was the embodiment of heaven.  I am not sure how much time had passed when she made the suggestion for me to sit on the sofa, but I did as she asked, though slightly confused.  She gently spread my legs and ran her tongue over my arousal once again, my hips bucked upward in response.

            "Do you want to feel what it is like to truly feast, Ichabod?" she asked, her voice sultry, yet innocent all at once.

            "Yes."  Still unsure of what was going to happen, I watched as she rose from the floor.  She straddled my lap and soon the part of her body, which my lips and fingers had already explored, was melding with the part of my body that she had brought to life.  She took me into her slowly, causing my entire body to shudder in sheer pleasure.  She smiled down at me, looking every bit the sinning angel she was. 

"How does it feel?"

I wrapped my arms around her, holding her as close to me as I could.  "Perfect."  She began to move her hips and a high-pitched squeak slipped from my lips.

"I'll be gentle with you," she cooed.  I kissed her neck and breasts as her hips began a rhythmic pace.  She began to moan and whimper as her pace quickened.  She shifted her body and I felt myself slide deeper within her.  She was the world – there was nothing else I could ever want for.  I felt her tighten around me and my name passed her lips in a long, drawn out sigh.  Soon after, the most incredible feeling imaginable passed through my body…

We found ourselves back on the blanket in front of the fire; Victoria's head was resting on my chest.  Her fingers were tracing a pattern along my abdomen when she finally spoke.  "Ichabod, I am sorry that your first time was not with the one you are meant to love."

I shifted my body and tilted her face to look at mine.  "Victoria, it was."


	7. An Idea Strikes

          Victoria sat up, my shirt barely covering her at all.  "Ichabod, what in the world are you saying?"

          I smiled at her, perhaps foolishly, and said, "I am I love with you, Victoria."

          She moved away from me, her face changing.  "You cannot possibly be in love with me, Ichabod Crane.  You hardly know anything about me."

          "I want to learn everything about you…"

          "…You're mad…"

          "I am no such thing.  Victoria, even though you came to me in the most dire of situations, my heart raced each time you walked through my door…"

          "Infatuation…"

          "Perhaps at first, but no longer."

          "And how is it that things can change so suddenly?"

          "Is it so difficult to believe that a man can love you rather than cause you pain?"  For some reason, I feared that I had crossed some semblance of a line with that question.  She sat perfectly still, and perfectly silent.  "Victoria, the life that you are living is not what you deserve.  You should be sitting in a home with a smile on your face, with your eyes alight…not crouched outside in the rain with fear coursing through your veins.  I have made you smile, that has to mean something."

          "Of course it means something," she said, her voice no more than a whisper.  "However, you believe you have rescued a 'damsel in distress' and that your tale has a happy ending.  There is no happy ending here, Ichabod." 

          "And why not?"

          "Are you forgetting about the man that I am married to?  I shall be lucky if I live to see the sun set tomorrow."  Tears fell from her eyes and I moved closer to her, pulling her into my arms.  She tried to push me away, but I refused to let her go.  "I cannot do this…"

          "You will see tomorrow.  You will see every tomorrow, I will make sure of it."

          "How?  How can you make the horrid thing my life has become vanish?"  She looked into my eyes and seemed suddenly desperate.  "I have not been able to get my life back, Hector has made sure of that.  He was willing to kill my father rather than let me go.  I am _not_ some helpless woman, I am simply…"  She had tried to sound so sure of herself, but failed in the end.

          "I swear that I am not trying to make you feel weak.  I simply wish a better life for you, just as your father does.  I wish to give you that life…"

          "And had I not made love to you?"

          "I would still wish to give you the life you deserve."

          "Again, I stress that you do not know…"

          I kissed her, not allowing her to finish what I knew she wanted to say.  "You let me feast, now let me learn."  She reciprocated my kiss, her body trembling.

          "We could both wind up dead."

          "I shall think of something, I promise."

          Her body began to come back to life, as did mine.  Her hands began to wander my chest as she asked, "Why risk your life for a woman that you barely know?" 

          "I know all I need to…for now."  I entered her body, careful to keep my full weight off of her.  "Once I figure something out," I whispered, "I want to know every detail about you."

          Her head tilted back and her eyes closed.  Her voice was breathy when she replied, "And I…you…"

          I made love to her, lavishing all I could upon her body.  I believe that both of us became lost in one another, neither wanting the feelings we were creating to end…though, eventually, they did.  Our bodies too exhausted to move, I pulled an afghan from the sofa and covered Victoria first, then myself.  She fell asleep after muttering words that haunted me through the night:

          "I could love you far too easily, Ichabod Crane."

          The words that kept me awake were a blessing.  As my mind reeled at the thought of having Victoria's heart, an idea struck me.  One that could let her escape a life of misery and start anew with me.


	8. Your Damsel

_**Author's Note: Long time, no write, I know. A lot has been happening in my life. Marriage, a new house, and a new job. I simply haven't had the time or "umph" to work on my unfinished stories – or to read any…but I'm back! Please visit my website (on my profile) for updates there as well. I've missed it here and am so glad to be back!**_

The sun, that had been a stranger to New York for so long, streamed in through the window of the parlor. Victoria's face was bathed in light, causing her to look even more angelic than I already found her to be. I could not help myself as a small smile crept onto my face at the memory of what had transpired between us only a few short hours ago. I had also thought of a plan to save her life…and hopefully keep her in mine.

I let her wake on her own, not wishing to disturb the peace that I hoped her slumber had brought her. Her eyes fluttered open and her gaze immediately fell upon me.

"Ichabod?" her voice was no more than a whisper.

"Yes?" I pressed my body against hers, hoping to warm the slight chill to her skin.

"Do you think ill of me?"

Her question was a genuine shock to me. "Victoria, why would I think ill of you?"

"I've become an adulteress," she answered, a blush of shame washing over her face. "A…a whore."

"No," I said, before my mind truly processed her words. "You are no such thing. Whores are paid for their services, and adulteresses seduce with their bodies. Your eyes seduced me the moment I saw you."

Victoria caressed my face and warmth crept into her voice. "You're a romantic, Ichabod. Tell me, were I to run away with you, would you remain the same as you are now?"

"No." My answer made her face twist in confusion, but I smiled at her. "Were you to run away with me, Victoria, I would be whatever you needed at any given moment."

"Words and actions differ greatly."

"Mine remain the same, I assure you."

She kissed me, her lips somehow conveying a promise of so much more to come. "Do you truly love me, as you said you do?"

"Yes."

She smiled. "What if you were to discover that I don't cook well, or that I snore? Would your feelings remain the same?"

I mirrored her smile. "I'm terrified of spiders. Could you still love me?"

"Your point has been conveyed, Ichabod." She rested her head between my neck and shoulder. "And I do," she whispered. "You've shown me more compassion and loving tendencies in mere hours than Hector has _ever_ shown me. Rescue your damsel."

That was all I needed and wanted to hear. She was willing to leave her life for me – with me. "I have thought of a way to take you away from him – without harm to anyone – and a guarantee that you shall always be safe." Victoria's eyes brightened with hope. "Do you trust me?"

Her answer was sure. "With my life."


	9. The Truth is Known

I had Jonathon escort Victoria to the infirmary. The possibility of being seen with her was far too dangerous for both of us. We had decided that her story would be quite simple: Scared by Hector's actions, she fled to the infirmary. Being soaked to the skin, the nurses would offer her dry clothing and a bed for the night. It was believable, as long as Hector hadn't bothered to check the infirmary before her arrival. As luck would have it, he hadn't.

After an hour passed, I too went to the infirmary, under the pretenses of checking on Victoria's father. When I entered Mr. Dearborne's room, Victoria was sitting at his side clad in what appeared to be one of the nurse's uniforms. Her face blushed when her eyes found me.

"Good morning, Constable Crane," Mr. Dearborne said, sorrow in his eyes.

"Good morning," I answered, doing my best to look confused. "Is everything all right?"

"You needn't pretend, Constable. Victoria has told me everything." He took his daughter's hand in his. "I understand that this is the only way to save her. I place all of my faith in you."

My body relaxed and I walked closer to both of them. "She will live a good life, sir, I promise you that. The position I am taking in Philadelphia will provide more than enough for me to give Victoria anything she wishes…"

Victoria smiled, "I wish only for you, Ichabod."

I was foolish to let myself get caught up in the moment. "And it will be my pleasure to provide you with a lifetime of…"

"What in God's name is going on in here, Victoria?" Not one among us knew if Hector had heard anything we said – however my presence within two feet of her was surely enough to rile her husband. "Where have you been?"

With newfound confidence, Victoria stood and spoke. "I've been here since last night, Hector. I could not bear to stay in that house with you acting as you were."

Hector raised an eyebrow, realizing that a doctor and nurse had entered the room. "And just how was I acting?"

"Like a madman!" Victoria shouted. "What possesses a man to treat a woman, who lives her life as his servant, the way you treat me?"

Hector walked toward his wife, a smile on his face. "My love, you must be fevered from running about in the storm last night…"

"Stay away from me! They all know, Hector. _All_ of them!" She lifted her sleeve, exposing her bandages. "What do you think I told them when they tended to my wound? That I made a gauche mistake in the kitchen?"

"Are you trying to say that I caused your injuries?" Hector asked, appalled.

Tears fell from Victoria's eyes, but I believe they were tears of anger, rather than sorrow. "Had I not moved, I would be dead," she whispered. "You were aiming for my heart!"

My stomach twisted. Why had she not told me?

"Perhaps it is not fever that is upon you, wife, perhaps it is madness!"

"Witnessing another man bestowing compassion upon me is not a reason for me to cease existing!"

I then understood why she hadn't told me. Had Hector succeeded in making his target, I would have been the cause of her death. The thought made me ill and I had to hold the edge of the bed to keep my balance.

"He is not worthy of comforting you!" Hector said, pointing at me.

"And you are? That is, if you ever chose to do so? You are an animal! A filthy, disgusting…" Her words were cut short as Hector's hand made contact with her face.

Despite the man's advantage on me in both height and weight, I felt my body moving rapidly towards him. From the corner of my eye, I saw Victoria grab a bottle from a nearby shelf before she disappeared from the room. I punched Hector squarely in the jaw, causing him only to laugh before he sent my body into the wall…I passed out.


	10. Everything Goes Wrong

When I came to, I was in a bed in a different room. The infirmary was eerily quiet, aside from the sound of a man crying. I called out to a nurse who was passing by. "Excuse me?"

She walked into my room, smiling gently. "Constable Crane, it's wonderful to have you back with us. You have been unconscious for quite some time."

"I see." Again, I heard the man. "Has something happened?"

"What do you mean, sir?"

"Is he awake, Abagail?" I recognized the voice as that of Dr. Kindell.

"Yes, doctor."

I watched as the man rounded the corner, remorse in his eyes. "Constable, I regret to have to tell you this…" He wiped at his brow. "…Victoria has taken her life."

I rose from the bed, ignoring the pain that was torturing my body. "How?"

"She took something from the shelf, we cannot be sure of what it was. The bottle was unmarked. She was found in the lavatory by her husband."

"May I…may I see her?" My voice cracked, as it always seemed to do when my nerves got the best of me.

"I'm sorry, Constable. I understand that you are usually the one to deem a cause of death and the like, however, under these unfortunate circumstances, her father has already had her body sent to the undertaker. She has been cremated."

"Oh, I…" I said nothing else. I fought the intense wave of nausea that overtook my body. I did not think that the situation was possible; therefore, I left my room in search of anything that was sensible. What I found was Mr. Dearborne, sobbing into his hands.

He looked up at me. "He was too much for her to bear," he said through his tears. "I cannot tell you how sorry I am, Ichabod. I know that you would have made her happy." His face returned to his hands and I fell to my knees, paralyzed. Hector pushed Victoria to a desperate edge right in front of me and all I was able to do was get myself knocked unconscious. I felt tears leave my eyes, but made no effort to wipe them away.

Everything had gone wrong.

If you have not yet deduced what was to take place, it follows as thus: Victoria was only to have appeared to have died. I had thought all of it out. I knew of a chemical that, when ingested, simulated death. Her breathing and heart rate would slow to an almost undetectable rate for only a few minutes – long enough for Hector to find her "dead." Being constable, I would have declared her so, and our life together would have resumed in Philadelphia. I suppose that her mind changed. I suppose that I was not the life she truly wanted. Death was a more welcome entity than I…

"Ichabod?" Jonathon's voice cut through my pained thoughts. His eyes, too, were saddened. "Are you…all right?" He asked the question, but by the sound of his voice, regretted it.

"It…it is safe to say, I am not." It physically hurt me to speak. "I will not be able to bear staying in this city any longer. Go and pack, Jonathon. We will leave for Philadelphia at dawn."

"Yes, sir." He left without another word.

"Constable," Dr. Kindell's voice reemerged into the air. He had followed me from my room. "I do not recommend traveling in your condition."

"Travel is the only thins that may, eventually, cure my ailment, doctor." Dr. Kindell was, of course, referring to the blow to my head…I, however, was referring to my shattered heart.


	11. Always

Jonathon and I began our journey at sunrise – the day could not have been colder. Our travels took longer than expected due to an unforeseen turn in the weather. Icy rains had washed out numerous roadways; we were forced to stop in several small towns for rest. I am not quite sure if I spoke more than a few words a day during the entire trip; Victoria consumed my thoughts. Each time I closed my eyes, her face was before me, her eyes bright, her lips inviting. I would have given my life for hers, but fate would not have it. I decided that I would never again lose focus on sense and reason…love was neither of those things.

I was asleep in the carriage when we arrived in Philadelphia. Jonathon woke me from a nightmare that revolved around Victoria being burned alive by the undertaker. At that moment, I longed to be in a specific moment in Sleepy Hollow – the moment when Katrina soothed my nightmares away. It was not so, nor would it ever be again. Ichabod Crane is not meant for love or soothing. I am meant merely for retrieving bodies from rivers, for sending headless horsemen back to hell, and for fainting whenever my body betrays me.

At least, those _were_ my thoughts…

I felt that my tale was through, that I would live my life alone after Jonathon was no longer a boy and took a wife, leaving me to myself. Fate is cruel, that is true, but sometimes one cannot appreciate the wonder of fate at all if its cruel side does not rear its face.

My and Jonathon's new home sat in front of us, newly fallen snow covering the rooftop. I felt no thrill, no fear – simply emptiness. Only upon making my way up the front steps of the porch did I see the warm glow inside. Through the window I saw that a fire had been lit, and for that moment that was enough to cause a small amount of joy to course through me. I could barely feel my toes as I unlocked the door and stepped through the threshold. I was certain that my senses were playing a cruel trick on me as the scent of goose filled my nostrils.

"A housekeeper has not been appointed, correct?" I asked my ward.

"No, Ichabod," Jonathon answered, seeming just as confused as I.

I looked around me new home, fearing that my eyes deceived me as well. Everything was clean and strangely comforting. "Perhaps…perhaps the magistrate arranged something for us?" I asked no one in particular.

"Or perhaps someone needed to occupy her time?"

I felt that I had lost touch with the real world. Victoria's voice floated into my ears, causing my to drop one of my bags. She stepped through the doorway that led into the kitchen and I stood, frozen in place.

"I expected you days ago, Ichabod. I've cooked the same meal every night, hoping that…"

"If I have gone mad," I interrupted, "I do not wish for sanity."

"I see her too," Jonathan whispered.

Victoria smiled and rushed to me, arms extended. I wanted to reciprocate, but could not move. "I'm so sorry, my love," she cooed into my ear. "I did not wish to hurt you, but Father feared Hector would somehow learn about what we planned. We both decided that it would be safer if I made the journey ahead of you."

I did not faint. I did not utter any sounds mirroring a scared animal. Instead, I kissed her. My arms finally wrapped around her body and I held her as tightly as I could. I wept, not caring whether or not a man should. She had not chosen death over me…

"How?" I uttered.

"The pills that you gave to me worked. Hector found me in the bathroom and even Dr. Kindell thought me dead. Father insisted that I be cremated at once, due to the circumstances. It worked, Ichabod," she smiled. "Father entrusted a friend to bring me here. I simply told the magistrate that I was your housekeeper and I was let in. Are you angry with me?"

I entangled my fingers in her hair, a smile on my face despite the tears in my eyes. "I shall never show you anger, Victoria. I promise you the life you deserve. I love you."

"And I love you, Ichabod Crane. Always."

**The End**

**_Author's Note: Hm, was the ending too rushed or do you like it? Let me know! Just leave a review (sans flames, of course – like you guys would do that to me…you wouldn't, right?)_**


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